


The Name of the Game Tonight is Getting Lucky

by bubblebangbaby



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Dissociation, M/M, Masturbation, Semi-Public Sex, akechi goro's raging hate-on, because it's easier to kill someone than admit you wanna bone them, he's so mad you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 23:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14031516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblebangbaby/pseuds/bubblebangbaby
Summary: Written for the Dreamwidth Kinkmeme:honestly i just want akechi, who is continually straddling the fence with his massive hate-on for akira, coming across ryuji and akira getting freaky during the casino palace and just watching, seething in hatred and jealousy lmaobonus points if ryuji doesn't know he's there but akira doesdouble bonus points for bottom akiraExactly what it says on the tin, no artificial colours or preservatives.





	The Name of the Game Tonight is Getting Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: "Have you ever been so angry you pop a boner, because Akechi sure as hell has..."

He's backtracking, but that's ok. Let someone else get the accolades for cheating their way through the casino. It's not as important as what could be on that laptop in the security room. Up and over, through the vent to the left, and out--or not. There are voices coming from the room ahead. Shadows? No, it sounds more like… Oh no...

“--seriously, keep it down, I don't wanna get caught like this...”

“C'mon, man, we flattened every shadow on this floor, and the rest of the guys are on the other side of the effin’ palace. _Relax_.”

“I’ve never been relaxed in my life. Am I gonna have to make you shut up?”

“Pfft! Just try me, Joker.”

Akechi can't see much more than the desk and the corner nearest the vent he's in, but there’s a clang and a thump and both of them are suddenly in his line of sight. Skull has Kurusu pressed against the wall, and instead of banter now, the air is full of the creak of leather armor and the wet smacking of their mouths as they kiss. No no no no no, this can't be happening, not right in front of him, no no no…

He tries to back out of the vent, and the clatter of his mask and boots against the metal screeches out like a klaxon. But they don’t seem to have noticed. Too busy tearing each other’s clothes off, it seems. Still, if he tries to back all the way out, they’ll definitely notice. Can’t go forward, can’t go back. _Shit._

A sharp gasp from one of them seems to echo off the sides of the vent all around him. He scrubs at his face, digs his fingers into his eyes until colours burst behind his lids. It doesn’t help. He can still hear them, and his mind fills in all the images whether he wants it or not. Skull murmurs something too low to catch and there’s more noises, scraping, a thump too close to his hiding place for comfort. His hands are aching and his head feels too full. He opens his eyes. Kurusu is sitting on the edge of the table right there in front of him, stripped to the waist, panting hard as Skull mouths at his neck, one hand curled around the small of his back posessively, the other shoved down his leader’s undone pants.

There’s a burning in his throat, his chest, behind his eyes. He’s trapped here. Trapped. Trapped in here with… _this._ So close he can smell them, so close he can hear Kurusu’s breath hitch in his throat, hear the little sounds he’s making turn breathless and hungry as Skull does something that he can’t quite see. He retches up sour bile and swallows it back down, both hands clamped over his mouth now, to keep quiet. Even if he closes his eyes, Kurusu’s arched back and open mouth are burned onto the back of his eyelids. He can’t look away.

Of course it had to be Kurusu, in here like this. It’s always Kurusu. Damn the little bastard, the upstart trash, no shame, no _respect._ Coming in like a landslide, like Alexander's sword slicing right through all the layers of propriety Akechi’s been so careful to weave all his life. Slapping all those expectations and polite denials aside and taking the rewards for himself as though he had the _right_. Fucking Kurusu.

They’re shifting position now, Kurusu pushing the other boy back so he can turn around and bend over the table, spreading his legs and begging like a whore.

“Skull, please...”

“Ohh holy shit, you’re hot like that…” He can just see Skull’s yellow gloves sliding up Kurusu’s chest, wrapping around him and tugging him up off the desk

There’s the sound of mouths on mouths on mouths again, too wet and too loud. And now Kurusu is laughing, and Skull laughs with him, and they sound so happy, so fake and smarmy, like they’re putting on this act just for him, to spite him. Akechi’s stomach burns. He still can’t look away. The positions they’re in now, he can see everything. The pale swell and curve of Kurusu’s legs and back and ass as he bends over the desk again, the way he grips the edge of it in anticipation with one red right hand, the other reaching back to caress Skull’s neck, his pants pooled around his ankles. And Skull now, still dressed but his fly open, rolling a condom onto himself with practiced ease, like he does it every day. Maybe he does. Is that why he happened to have one with him on a mission? Because his greedy slut boyfriend can’t bear to go a day without getting fucked? Skull is pressing his cock in, slow and steady, leaning over Kurusu as he does, pressing little kisses to his neck and spine. The sounds he’s making are sickening--breathy, high-pitched whimpers like a girl. Akechi grinds his teeth till they ache. He doesn’t look away. Bastard, slut, whore, _thief._

“God, Skull… Ohh god, please… Please…”

Skull rolls his hips, still slow, still teasing. “Please what, baby? Please fuck you good and hard?”

“ _Yes_ , you shit. Ah… yes god, just fuck me…” Akechi can just barely see their faces, see the smiles over the banter. And he can see when Skull pulls Kurusu’s chin up to kiss him, soft and sweet, hips still rocking against him in that slow, teasing way. Almost loving. What a fucking performance. Really laying it on thick.

“I got you, baby…” Another kiss, and then Skull is thrusting properly, slamming Kurusu’s thin frame against the desk with each hard stroke. He twists his fingers into that nest of black hair and yanks back a little. Kurusu’s voice rises into a hungry wail, and he’s crying out desperately as Skull fucks him.

They have to know Akechi is there. He has to. Kurusu swept in to take everything away from him, and now what is he doing? Teasing him, abusing him with this disgusting display not five feet away. Rubbing it in his face that he can have anything Akechi might have ever even thought about wanting in life. Taking his own years and years of steel-edged repression and spitting on them. Showing off his body, taking whatever lover he wants, without a scrap of shame. Can the bastard even feel shame? From the way he’s yowling like a cat in heat, it doesn’t seem likely. He’s doing this to twist the knife.

There’s a red haze settling in the edges of Akechi’s vision. The rage is boiling in his veins and pounding in his ears, and yet he’s still watching. Can’t stop, can’t look away. He can feel Loki in the back of his brain, hysterical laughter and smoking ruins. _He’s doing this on purpose he’s doing this on purpose he thinks he’s won and he’s rubbing it in oh just wait just wait you beautiful slut, you decadent filth, you--you…_

His thoughts break down into screaming and sirens, no words left to transcribe the roiling hate oozing from his every pore. The ghosts of old wounds are set aflame lighting up under his skin, burning slow and steady like pitch. He can’t tell if the screaming is in his mind or coming from Kurusu--god, he ought be screaming, the way Skull has him pressed hard into the desk, one hand on his cock and one around his throat as he thrusts fast and deep. And no, no there’s no mistaking it now, Kurusu is crying out for Skull, for more, harder, more more more more--

Akechi’s not quite sure when or how his hand ended up in his pants, but it’s there now, stroking himself hard and rough in time with the thrusts, the moans. The vulgar sound of their bodies slapping together, quickening in pace--it’s in his head, pulsing and throbbing with his cock, in time with his own hand… and then he can hear that voice--that voice!--that voice that slithers through his dreams and stabs him in the back when he least expects it, he hears it rise and rise and--

“Oh god oh god please don’t stop please please god I’m gonna--”

“Yes, god, Akira… Oh god yes, come for me baby…”

“Gonna come, gonna--”

The sound that pierces the air when Kurusu finally comes stabs through him, pierces him to the bone, until he has to bite back his own snarl of rage. His rival’s eyes are dark, unfocused, his breath coming hard and desperate and that pert, perfect ass is grinding back against Skull’s hips, desperate and seeking more more more--and Akechi’s coming too, pouring over his hand and onto the floor, his whole body shuddering and spasming with the force of it. It burns like rage. It feels like losing.

Sprawled over the desk, his body still quivering, Kurusu is purring from the pure contentment of the afterglow. Skull is groaning exhausted blessings into the side of his neck. Akechi is shaking. The haze is clearing from his vision, and he gapes at the couple in frozen horror. He can’t even wipe his filthy hand off without their hearing it now. He can’t move. As he watches on, Skull pulls out of his lover, slow and careful. Kurusu whimpers as he does, then sighs. He rolls his shoulders and opens his eyes, slow and languid. Opens his eyes and looks straight at Akechi, huddled in the hidden passage. He meets his eyes and grins a vicious grin, a smile with knives behind it. And deliberately, eyebrows raised, he meets Akechi’s eyes… and winks.

There’s a volcano exploding in the back of Akechi’s head. Pure, seething, explosive rage screams in his ears and turns his vision to blood, blood, screaming howling boiling blood. The _insult_ , the _disrespect_ , the…

Somewhere near the ceiling, what’s left of Akechi’s awareness drifts, observing. Kurusu is pulling on the last of his clothes and embracing Skull, laughing and smiling, pure joy settling around their shoulders and sparking between them with every glance. They’re kissing again and again as they make their way out, unable to stay away from each other even for a second. In the little corridor, Akechi’s body is shuddering in rage and pain, nails digging into the carpet even through the gloves, eyes unfocused and sweat starting to trickle into them. As they head through the door and presumably back to the group, Joker turns for just an instant and blows a kiss toward the corner where Akechi is hidden.

The door slams shut.

The couple’s footsteps fade away down the hall.

Akechi snarls.

From that faraway place, he watches himself, boiling out of his hiding place, a whirlwind of fury and rage and disgust. He brings down holy light and sets the desk--still spattered with Kurusu's cum--on fire, white flames leaping up to the ceiling. Let it burn, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Two more days and it’ll all be over.

Two more days. It’ll itch under his skin until then.

He can’t _wait_ to kill that bastard.  


**Author's Note:**

> I have to confess, it's been awhile since I played through Sae's palace, so the exact room they're in is... handwave. Just roll with it. Any other disjointed bits are intentional due to Akechi's completely unhinged frame of mind. Somebody get this guy some klonopin and a therapist, geez.
> 
> Yell at me on [tumblr](http//bubblebangbaby.tumblr.com)!


End file.
